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by PsychicDynamite
Summary: Steve painfully ponders on Peggy's words. An introspective one-shot into the mind of our patriotic Avenger. Spoilers for Age of Ultron.


**A/N: Hey! Thanks for clicking! This is just a little one-shot I thought of while eating breakfast. I don't know I like to depress myself so early in the day, but I do. Anyone who wants to join me in cuddling Steve and weaving flowers into his hair, let me know.**

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" _You won't be alone._ "

Those words had echoed in his head ever since he got out of the ice. Some days, he could count on them resting at the back of his head, nothing above a subtle whisper. Other days, he would wake up to hear them unexpectedly, loud and clear as the day she had uttered them. Those days weren't his best, and they hurt more often than not.

The majority of him sought the day when he could finally wake up without hearing her words in his head, which is why he went to go visit Peggy at her bedside so often, as frail as she was. Steve was probably doing more harm than good. But he persisted, wanting closure, just so he could get a peaceful night's sleep, and not wake to frightening dreams of what happened or what could have been.

However, a very small part of him clung onto Peggy's words. The words were like a small trinket that helped him keep himself grounded. His rescuers from his frigid slumber failed to pick up his compass, among his other little treasures. At this point, other than wistful sketches and fond, but painful, memories, they were the only things that kept him on his path. His path to not being a perfect soldier, but a good man.

But that all changed in Wakanda.

It seemed so simple, in hindsight, it seemed just as ridiculous. Go in, find Ultron, and stop him. Just like that. But of course, the supposed ally-turned-enemy had a few curve balls to throw, which he did.

The Stork Club was just as he imagined it would be after the war. Frankly, it startled him. He was supposed to be fighting Ultron, keeping his lackeys down so they could stop the evil bot. But, here he was. Swing music rushing in all around him, lights dimmed just so to give a fun, yet intimate atmosphere, and soldiers as far as the eye can see, enjoying a well deserved night, with beautiful dancing ladies at their sides. Hell, it even smelled like he imagined it would have been. The air slightly laced with sweat from all the dancing, barely covering the trailing scent of alcohol.

Briefly looking down, he even had on his uniform from the Second World War, not his usual red-white-and-blue. Steve became even more wary. He remembered where he was supposed to be. So where was he now?

"Are you ready for our dance?"

He swore he thought his heart froze. Against his better judgment, he turned around. And there he saw her.

She wasn't the frail, old 90-some year old woman lying in bed as he fought back pain. No, she was just as he left her in the '40s, stunning as ever, a radiant blue dress gracing her lovely self. The wind was knocked out of him.

"The war is over, Steve; we can go home!"

The words brought him both a feeling of relief washing over and a horrible sense of panic. This wasn't just the Stork Club. This was their date, the date the two of them had promised one another as he flew Red Skull's plane into the ice.

He wanted to back out, to say "wait a minute" and get his bearings. Where was Ultron? Steve glanced around for a brief exit, but all he saw were dancing couples and soldiers who were just ecstatic to be home, hardly complaining over a shirt soiled with wine. Everyone was happy, just as he imagined.

His gaze turned back to Peggy.

"Imagine it."

Then, in a blink of an eye, everything was gone. The whole club was emptied, and nothing but the warm chandelier and empty chairs greeted him. Even the musk of men and alcohol had fled him. They were all a memory. He was alone.

The pain he faced every day since his defrosting ate at his chest further and further. Where was he? He didn't know anymore. Did he want to leave? He didn't know either.

Steve closed his eyes, trying to get his head back together.

That had been a mistake.

Everything, everyone was back again. He had never been alone. His fellow soldiers, celebrating their victory, surrounded him and he could almost taste the liquor in the air. Imagination or not, he thought _to hell with it_ , and saw himself offering his hand to Peggy.

As if by magic, the band started to play something slow, and he couldn't help but give the most brilliant smile as he allowed himself to forget everything but that moment. They would finally have their dance.

Then everything went black.

Steve would wake up to find himself back on the Quinjet, amongst his fellow Avengers. He was back in his red-white-and-blue, shield and all. Everyone but Tony and Clint was shaken, but that seemed peripheral. The pain of the palpable imagination left his heart stinging, and he felt a sense of apathy enclose him. He didn't particularly care where he was, he didn't particularly care what had happened. He was never going to be able to go back, back to how things were, or would have been. He could imagine it every day, for the rest of his life, and all he would wake up to is agony beside him in bed.

Clint had landed them at a safe house, which, to everyone's surprise, minus Romanoff, housed Clint's wife and two kids.

" _We can go home!_ "

He never thought he would find other words that could shake him to the core. But he did. Standing inside Barton's home, seeing that he actually established a life outside of avenging, it was too much.

He would never have a home, not one he envisioned back in the '40s. He could never afford the luxury to settle down, have a wife and kids. Staring blankly into the house from the porch, Steve only held a single thought in his mind.

 _No, Peggy. I can't._

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 **A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated! I might do some more one-shots looking into the other Avengers' heads, if ideas come to me. I also take requests!**


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